Broadway's Dark Tonight
by PikaCheeka
Summary: This is just Draco wandering around London being depressed and feeling worthless and missing Lucius. ...song removed though...::very twisted fic::


LOOK! I'M BACK::but for how long: lol. Ok, I was getting really sick of everyone emailing me and reviewing my fics asking where I went and why won't I write Draco fics anymore? Well, my obsessions jump around a lot, I can't help that. And I went Zelda freak, but for some reason I was dying to write this today.

Dedicated to D.M.P., for when we went to see Unbreakable with M.T.M., they played this song during the commercials, and she told me to use it in a fic. She also found the lyrics for me when I got carried away looking at pictures of the GooGooDolls screaming their heads off on roller coasters somewhere. It kind of unfolded from there. Thanks D.M.P., and remember...Mr. Glass, glass, happy Mr. Glass...inside joke, please pay ten galleons to understand -

Also dedicated to Filly, my riding instructor's favorite horse who just died of colic a few weeks ago.

Broadway is Dark Tonight

By PikaCheeka

song deleted for reasons

This night is empty. Empty and cold. The stars will not shine and the moon is not there. Lupin is safe, but who else is? I am not. These haunted memories always return. There is no escaping them. They get darker at times, but sometimes they are lighter. And every now and then I can even remember something I did nice for you. That was rare. I was a cruel and hateful child. I hated you because you cared about me. In my opinion, it is I who should have died, not you.

I should have died for you. I owed you everything. You owed me nothing at all. I was always in your debt, and now I will be forever.

I have taken up your place. I remember how you used to walk out some nights and not return until the morning. You wander the streets of London on the darkest nights.

Even when I came to this bar, the man behind the counter thought I was you. I had to turn away so he could not see my eyes watering.

I can never be like you. I was never taught to care about anyone else until it was too late. Not until you lay dying, your life leaking out crimson onto the stone floor beneath my feet. 

I don't know if you know this, but Mother killed herself almost right away.

Then I was alone. Sixteen and an orphan living in an immense castle all by himself, being hounded by the minister for all the murders you have done.

The murders you have done protecting me.

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I know. I have finally figured it out. You killed so many people so Voldemort would respect you. So you wouldn't have to hand me over to him when I reached a certain age.

But that doesn't matter anymore. You still died from him, trying to save me. You did, I shall admit that. But you only saved me from Voldemort, not from myself. I am beyond saving on this.

You always said you were the leader in the school. The boy everyone obeyed and followed. The one people bowed down to because you were so rich, because everyone knew your name, because you were so cruel and heartless all the idiots had to love you.

I know better by now. It wasn't you who was cruel and heartless. It was them. They wanted your money, your protection, your intelligence. You were the one who could throw thousand of galleons behind you and not even care, the one who knew half the spells in the world and kill anyone without even a wand, the one who knew every answer to every homework question. You were the one with the evil glint in the eye, the blonde hair, the pale complexion, and the slitty eyes, the one who all the girls fell in love with.

That's how it is now for me. And I don't even care.

They call me the hero because I killed Voldemort. I only killed him for revenge, Father. I wanted to avenge you. But even that wasn't enough.

Nothing matters to me anymore. I'm surprised I haven't pointed the wand at my chest yet, jumped the cliff, slashed the knife, swallowed the poison.

Perhaps it is because I still want to be like you.

Conquer the impossible.

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The thing that I remember the most about you was your superior attitude. Arrogant wasn't quite the word, but you acted like the whole world was in your hand. You acted as if you'd seen every place, met every person, seen every creature, conquered every land. It was what I envied so much of you.

That's why I relished the fact that we are part vampire so much. I loved knowing I had power. I remember how you used to return home some nights so full of power even Voldemort hesitated to order you around. He knew. He knew you were more powerful than him.

But why did you do nothing?

Why did you let him kill you?

Was it that you were trying to teach me something?

Did you know you were about to die long before you fought? Did you know how I would react? Or was it something worse...

Father...don't tell me it was that you wanted revenge on me for being such an ignorant son...

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I hated you. I hated you so much when I was younger. Mother did too. She feared you. She didn't like how deep you were, how intelligent you were. She hated those questions you asked, those ones about life and death, happiness and hatred...

She hated and feared you. She gave all the love you deserved from her to me. And I never even loved her back.

I was a greedy child. Once I was old enough to realize all I had to do to get something was ask, it was what I did. I asked for Dobby to be my personal slave instead of yours, I asked for the newest broomsticks every time, I asked for a pet dragon, a horse, a wand before age, a place on the Quidditch team...and I got everything.

When I told you to shut up or get away, you obeyed. You did everything I told you to, you were my slave. Sometimes you lost it and went insane for a few days at a time. I avoided you then. Locked myself away. I didn't want to face you when you might hurt me. I know now that you never would.

It's a surprise you even bothered with me. Let alone die for me.

And yet...it seems now that you have never existed. Lupin, he was your friend, wasn't he? He took me in, and occasionally falls into a state of depression. But no one else even cares to think about you anymore. They are afraid.

They realized you were a normal caring father after you died, and now they are too afraid to bring up your name anymore. I've heard Arthur Weasley used to threaten his kids that he'd hand them over to you when they got on his nerves. Now he knows you're human, and never mentions you anymore.

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I often wonder how I will die. Will I be doing something heroic, like you? Or will I die a suicidal loser? Hermione is leaning toward the fact that I am going to kill myself, and kind of shadows me. She even lives at the manor sometimes, taking one of the unused rooms for days at a time, making sure I never reach for the knife in the middle of the night. I don't tell her I sleep with it.

Not to kill myself.

To kill anything that comes near me, ready to haunt me and hurt me with the truth. I wake up screaming some nights. The wall beside my bed is scared with knife marks when I lash out in my sleep. All my nightmares are covered up by you, your death playing over and over, your last words repeating themselves like a broken record.

I don't even have to close my eyes anymore to see it. The dagger protruding from your side and you coughing up blood, trying to get out your last words to your idiot son before you died.

I am living with the guilt. If I had never run that day, I could have saved you. I knew the killing curse since I was six. I could have used it on Voldemort, stunning him while you closed in for the kill. But I was a coward, I was concerned for myself.

Father, it was not you who was neglectent in the family, it was I.

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I used to think when you left those nights that you were trying to get away from me. I forced myself into believing that until I truly did. I relished the thought that you hated me. It gave me a reason to hate you, to swear at you, to hurt you emotionally, to take out all my anger on you. You would just glare at me, your eyes burning with what I thought was hatred and malice. It wasn't, was it?

It was sadness and love.

I pretended you left to forget about me. Get yourself lost in the blood of others, drinking it with relish. I know now that you getting away from it all, not just from me. And when you did leave to get away from me, it was because I hurt you so much you had to something to forget.

I was so cruel and heartless you sometimes had to force-drive me from your mind.

I bet as you died the worst things I ever told you ran through your mind. My first words. "You hate me, Father. You hate me because I am weak." That time you told me to try harder in school and I flew into a fit of rage, screaming and cursing and swearing and threatening to kill you.

I was considering it too.

That keeps coming back to me.

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You saw my final exams, and realized I could be doing better. I actually could too. But I didn't care. I figured you could get Dumbledore to pass me if I needed to be passed with help. You freaked out, realizing you were raising a delinquent son. You were afraid you were failing as a father. You were not. I was failing as a son.

I tried to kill you. I actually had that knife, don't you remember? I was going to kill you. I could imagine your blood running red on the floor. But I lost my nerve in the end, and fainted dead away on the spot, falling onto the knife I held and nearly cutting my wrist.

Too bad I didn't...

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I know you'd wish you could have a normal life sometimes. But that was impossible. You ran away a lot to escape your life, but always returned worse off than before. I know why. You saw the muggle families, the happy ones who loved each other. You knew you could never have that.

I made it impossible.

So you wandered around the city, and even the country sometimes , just to get away from me. You never seemed to mind when I left for school. I know you did though, but I didn't. I didn't miss you.

I hate to say it Father, but everyone hated you back then.

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And now it is my turn. They call me a hero, but do they care at all about me? The real Draco? Or is it only the hero Draco they care about? It is only the hero. If I died, there would be no mourning. For you were one of the few who cared about me, and you are gone.

I wonder, who will be sad when I am gone?

Hermione and Lupin.

Dammit, why is it I always have more than you? I hate it, I want to be like you, not better. And Hell you were better than I, only I have more. I have more to hide behind, to stand up for. You were a free spirit, able to do whatever you wanted just because you were alone in the world. I am anchored.

I am confused and lost in this wide world. I love the streets of London, as you did. But it that the only reason why I love them? What did you ever see in them?

What did you ever see in _me_?

That evil child who hated you so?


End file.
